


TGIF

by highspeedearth



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highspeedearth/pseuds/highspeedearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her colleagues have all gone home, her cute boyfriend is begging for attention, and the sewing pattern will keep until Monday. Weekend starts now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TGIF

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This drabble comes with a – [ totally excellent companion piece done by my friend Ming85](http://ming85.tumblr.com/post/145779872686/part-4-of-paris-landscapes-mixed-with-fanart) :3

Marinette's iPhone has been meowing for an hour. It isn’t until the light of the cracked screen catches her eye that she looks up from her sewing pattern. Outside everything is still bathed in warm light, but the shadows have grown long.

 

The preview on her lock screen reads, _The only progress i made today was..._ She swipes the message and scrolls through everything he's sent in the previous hour.

_hey_

_hey Mari_

_Marinette_

_Marinarinerinettiti_

_heyyy_

_My dove_

_My LAdy_

_hello?_

 

And then:

 _The only progress i made today was the epiphany that if you misspell TODAY, you get TOADY_ (weepy face emoji)

 

Eyes narrowed, she shoots back _i_ _thought u wr studying?_

 

He pings back immediately. _I was wrong to say that, maxima mea culpa, how soon can you be here Mari? My rose_

 

 _thought u wr_ _studying_ _and unpacking_ _and didnt want me distracting u???_

 

 _My dove. pls_ ,

 

She knows exactly what face he is making as he types this shit.

 

 _OK what r u doing 4 dinner 2night kitty??_ she types back. Grimacing, she adds, fast as lightning, _DON'T say doing you_

 

 _Doing you_ (“heurgh,” she says to her screen)

_sorry_

_i don’t know what’s for dinner yet. What do you want?_

 

 _u cook us someth. im leaving now cu soon in ur brand new flat!_ ❤

 

She tosses her phone into her bag's pocket, ignoring its meow! meow! to get on her jacket and fetch back the ballerinas which have migrated to the left of her drafting table. Her colleagues have all gone home, her cute boyfriend is begging for attention, and the sewing pattern will keep until Monday.

 

Even the frantic bustle of the Champs-Elysées at rush hour seems somehow lazy and delightful in the sunlight. Weekend starts now.

 

* * *

 

At the Louvre metro station, Marinette transfers from line 1 to line 7, almost missing her connection because she slows to admire the classical sculptures on display in their dramatically lit alcoves, thick plexiglass between them and the platform.

 

On her screen appears,

_See you soon <3 <3 <... _

_I haven’t exactly used..._

 

Smiling, bundled in between six other commuters on the metro, she swipes to read more, and nearly forgets to get out at Place Monge.

 

* * *

 

“Finally, you’re here!” Adrien kisses her as he drags her inside. Marinette allows herself be dragged, grinning at him through the kiss.

 

Adrien’s fancy new flat is situated on the 5th arrondissement's Rue de Navarre, much closer to his degree at ESPCI than the Agreste residence. On the outside, the flat is belle époque, all curly-wired balcony frame and arched windows. On the inside it is a metric shit-ton of tailored clothing, a renovated kitchen area, and a spare fridge that smells like ancient cheese, which they tucked away at the very back of the stairwell. There aren’t nearly as many boxes stacked against the walls as there were on Wednesday. He's been busy unpacking. It’s really starting to look more like a home.

 

Now if they eat on time, maybe they can build that book case tonight and clear the last of it. She's already started to plan and strategize. Marinette suspects that Adrien is trying to distract her with the kiss, but he is too polite and privacy-minded to leave that front door open. So as soon as Adrien disengages to close the front door, she slithers away and opens her bag to get out her phone and check the time. Tikki pops out, winks at him, “Hello kissy-cat!” and flits off to find Plagg.

 

“I feel like Tikki used to be more innocent,” Adrien remarks, trailing after Marinette.

 

“Your puns corrupted her. So what did you mean, you haven’t exactly used your stove yet? You’ve been here a week already, most of your kitchen boxes have been put away by now...”

Powered by her general neuroticism, Marinette marches into the new and ostensibly fully functional kitchen. And then she halts.

 

At her parents' bakery, the work area is scrubbed down thoroughly at the end of each day in the interest of hygiene. The ovens, the racks, the benches, the transfer boards – you can tell they’re used well and cleaned well, ready for the next shift. But this kitchen – most of this kitchen is immaculate like freshly fallen snow. It glitters. A human touch would sully it.

 

“I just, uh, haven’t gotten around to cooking,” he says, sheepish.

 

She hones in on him. He felt maybe bonier than usual when they kissed just now. Adrien is always skinny in that lithe high-fashion way that looks like it's on purpose, but he moved out of his dad’s place just over a week ago, and –

 

She sidles back up to him, putting her hands on his hips. He automatically raises his wrists to rest on her shoulders, fingers gathering her hair into two messy pigtails and tugging on them.

“Kitty. What have you been eating since you moved out?”

 

Adrien’s green eyes as he looks down at her are luminous in the light filtering in through the kitchen window. “Oh, you know, like nutrition bars and stuff.” There’s something to his voice.

 

“I know you're budgeting while you intern, but isn’t that overdoing it? Wouldn't you rather eat simple home-cooked stuff?”

 

“Yeahhhh... I guess,” he says, untangling his fingers from her hair, just as a thought occurs to her. “Is it because the stove is electric? I know electric stoves are tough to cook on at first, but didn't your chef back at your dad's place also use an electric stove? I bet you'll figure this one out in no time when –"

 

“Mari... I haven’t gotten around to cooking. _Ever_.”

 

She stops and looks up at him. He kind of turns his face away. He’s got the same complicated, soft expression he always has when he’s kind of upset about something but doesn’t think he should make a big deal of it. She hears the muted sound of evening traffic outside the window, and sees his slender wrist curl over his stomach.

 

“Okay,” she decides, blinking. “you know what, cooking isn’t a big deal. I’ll show you, and once you get in some practice you’ll be a pro in no time, because you're a superhero and an engineer.” His face relaxes into a grin and she cups it in her hands. "So how about we go do groceries, decide what you want to eat, and then we can take our time, properly break in your kitchen together – uh..."

 

They eye each other: Marinette starts to blush, Adrien's eyes slit, smirk threatening. He keeps her hands up on both sides of his jaw. “I didn’t mean that the way I said that,” she amends, “no cracking lame jokes at me."

 

“I impatiently await the day you mean it as dirty as you say it,” he replies, sneaking in a kiss anyway.

 

“If I leave now you’re back to nutrition bars and despair,” she reminds him.

 

“…I've studied all day and I'm hungry. Can we make something with seafood and lots of butter,” he pouts.

 

“Absolutely. And garlic, and cheese–”

 

“Yes, hello, I’m here, yes,” Plagg announces, suddenly materialising on Adrien’s shoulder.

 

Adrien shrugs, rolling Plagg off. “Go eat your own cheese, man."

 

“Already finished it."

 

“What? The whole fridge-full?” Marinette stares.

 

“Just because _Adrien_ doesn’t use his fridge, you can’t fault me for using mine.” Plagg shrugs, hovering.

 

“For years people thought I was an eccentric model who smells of mould, all because of you,” Adrien tells him.

 

“And now you’re an eccentric student who smells of nutrition bars and regret. Let’s go,” Marinette tucks her hand into the crook of Adrien’s elbow.

 

He beams down at her. “Hey lady, no regrets. Also, please help me understand salad.”

 

"Can I come shopping? Can I pick the camembert this time?” Asks Plagg, helpfully zipping into Marinette’s bag as they head out. Tikki joins him. “I vote desserts,” she says, smiling beatifically.

  
We’re eating _all of it_ , thinks Marinette, stepping back into the summer evening with Adrien by her side. Tonight, I’m teaching my cat to cook.


End file.
